Merely Players

Class Nine - Monologues

Draco is in class already when Harry arrives. He’s quiet and drawn, sat in the corner with Kam, but he’s there.

Harry wants to go over to him, to talk to him, to apologise again, but it’s obvious his apologies are not wanted. Instead, he sits with Sara and Brent. 

When Richard arrives and cries, ‘’Draco! We missed you!’’ and goes over to join him and Kam, Harry seethes but doesn’t protest. Richard didn’t shatter Draco in front of everyone.

‘’Today, my bumbling bees’’ Taylor sweeps his long ponytail over one shoulder and smiles at them all, ‘’we perform our monologues.’’

‘’No one worry about perfection; this is your first time performing them for an audience. We’ll ask for feedback after each one, but let’s make sure it’s always a positive sandwich! That means: say one nice thing at the beginning and the end of each observation.’’

Kam starts, with Tom’s monologue from ‘The Glass Menagerie’ – apparently, Taylor has a weakness for Tennessee Williams:

What do you think I’m at? Aren’t I supposed to have any patience to reach the end of, Mother? You think I’m crazy about the warehouse? You think I’m in love with the Continental Shoemakers? 

Next, Draco stands shakily, walks to the front, turns to face the class. He tugs on the bottom of his sweatshirt; it’s clearly been cut, so instead of a hem, it curls upward. 

‘’This is from ‘Enigma’, by Floyd Dell,’’ he says softly. He closes his eyes and looks down at the floor, then snaps his head up and begins.

‘’No,’’ he says, ‘’it happened to me. It didn’t happen to you. You made up your mind and walked in,’’ he smiles tenderly in recollection, ‘’with the air of a god on holiday. It was I who fell – headlong, dizzy, blind.’’ He screws up his face in frustration. ‘’I didn’t want to love you. It was a force too strong for me. It swept me into your arms. I prayed against it. I had to give myself to you, even though I knew you hardly cared. 

‘’I had to–’’ Draco looks beseechingly out at them, ‘’for my heart was no longer in my own breast. It was in your hands, to do what you liked with.’’

He casts his gaze down and to the side. ‘’You could have thrown it in the dust. It pleased you not to. You put it in your pocket. But,’’ once more the beseeching, desperate gaze, ‘’don’t you realise what it is to feel that another person has absolute power over you?’’

He laughs bitterly. ‘’No, for you have never felt that way. You have never been utterly dependent on another person for happiness. I was utterly dependent on you.’’

In Harry’s mind, another day, they are pressed together on a broomstick, Draco is cowering before Voldemort, before his father.

‘’It humiliated me, angered me. I rebelled against it, but it was no use. You see, my dear,’’ Draco hesitates, then finishes bitterly, ‘’I was in love with you. And you were free, and your heart was your own, and nobody could hurt you.’’

Harry stares at him, heart in his throat. There is a roaring in his ears; slowly, he realises the roaring is the applause of his classmates. He joins in, unfeeling, slamming his hands together while his mind whirrs and whirrs and comes up with nothing.

Draco looks shaky once more, takes a halfhearted bow and awaits his feedback. 

Harry hears nothing. He is too distracted by the whirring of his mind. He watches Richard run over to Draco, clap him on the back and leave a hand there, and he feels nothing, maybe the faintest twitch of annoyance.

He sits through Sara shouting at the Black Gate, through Brent declaiming why he feels like a cat on a hot tin roof.

He gets up and gives his own monologue – what happens when you lose your own voice – and barely hears himself, then returns to his seat and watches Richard close with Robin Williams’ monologue from Good Will Hunting, meeting Harry’s eyes as he finishes, smug: ‘’Your move, chief.’’

Wednesday, 14.31

Harry

draco u didnt tell me u were into skiing!

 

Draco

What about me suggests that I would ever willingly strap boards to my feet and shoot down an icy hill?

 

Harry

but i found this photo of u and Pansy on a ski trip!

Draco

I realise you meant this to be insulting, but look at those stylish, elegant creatures!

Observe their posture! Regard the quality of their attire!

If anything, this leads me to believe you hold me in high esteem.

 

Harry

typing

typing

i dont NOT hold u in high esteem u know

we r like

friends, kind of

friendly, anyway

i shouldnt have been such an arse

 

Draco

Harry I cannot stop admiring their svelte coats. These gorgeous creatures. I am increasingly honoured that you saw them and thought of me.

Class Ten - Inner Monologues

‘’We are going to stick with Stanislavski today, my precious chipmunks,’’ Taylor announces as he breezes past the scattered clumps of students chatting and stretching. When he reaches the front of the room, he whirls around, toying with the ends of his hair, and grins mysteriously, ‘’and his Magic If.’’

Draco starts, looks around frantically, then visibly gets hold of himself and focuses on Taylor again. 

Aha Harry thinks, vindicated, I KNEW there would be an actual Magic If.

‘’We’ll focus on developing our characters’ inner monologues,’’ Taylor continues, ‘’so to start, we’ll get in small groups and improvise a scene – really dig into it, make your reactions as big as you like. Try to keep the scene grounded, but big.’’

Grounded but big? Harry mouths to Sara, who shrugs.

‘’Once you have your scenes developed, we’ll run them again, but this time, you’ll speak your characters’ inner monologue as an aside – what are they thinking? What are their motivations? What is driving them? What is at the forefront of their mind?’’

Harry has a surprising amount of fun constructing an outrageous breakup scene with Brent and Lindsay. Harry gets to play the shocked, devastated dumpee, which everyone agrees is right up his alley, as it involves a lot of stunned silence and brooding looks. Lindsay and Brent, meanwhile, ham it up as his cruel ex-lover and her new fling, respectively.

When it comes time to run their scene for the ‘inner monologue’ portion of the class, though, they hit a snag.

Lindsay gives herself a shake, then looks at Harry, pretend-seated across the pretend-table from her. She sighs deeply and says, ‘’Jimmy, we need to talk,’’ then turns to the side and whispers, ‘’This isn’t going to be easy. I’m really dreading this. But I have to do it.’’

Harry-as-Jimmy smiles and says, ‘’Sure, Sandra, what is it?’’ After a pause, Harry turns to the side and whispers, ‘’I…wonder what it is.’’

He catches sight of Draco watching, entranced and delighted. Harry wants to make a face at him but is to busy being a professional.

‘’I think we should break up,’’ Lindsay-as-Sandra announces. Aside, she adds, ‘’There, I said it. No taking it back now.’’

Harry gasps, stunned and silent, just as they’d practised. There is a long pause, during which it slowly dawns on him that he is meant to react to other people’s lines as well as his own. Which seems unfair, really – Lindsay hasn’t had to react to any of his lines! Still, he manages to stammer out an aside of, ‘’Oh…no. How sad.’’

Lindsay’s mouth is twitching a bit as she continues, ‘’I know this may come as a bit of a shock’’ and aside ‘’although I don’t know HOW; we’ve been unhappy for months.’’

Harry, whose role still doesn’t call for any further lines, mutters aside, ‘’This comes as a bit of a shock!’’

‘’No, no, no,’’ Taylor interrupts. ‘’Harry, you’re meant to be relaying your inner monologue, not just repeating your lines. Say what you think, not only what you and Lindsay are saying.’’

Harry stares at him blankly. In his peripheral vision, he sees Draco grinning hugely. He kind of wants to roll his eyes at the idea of Draco still enjoying watching Harry get in trouble in class. Instead, Harry slowly says, ‘’Right, but…people say what they think.’’

He pauses in confusion as Draco emits a muffed snort, then continues. ‘’So...so, there’s some overlap there.’’

‘’Some,’’ Taylor concedes, ‘’but not an exact overlap.’’ He steps back to give them space. ‘’Give it another go.’’

This time, they at least make it into Brent’s portion of the scene; given that Harry doesn’t actually change much beyond swapping a word here and there so he isn’t precisely repeating their lines, he suspects that their success is more down to Taylor’s despair and benevolence than to any improvement on his part.

Brent, playing Jorgen, Sandra’s secret new lover, says, ‘’I’m sorry, Jimmy; you just can’t satisfy her like I can,’’ then, ‘’How could he?’’ he mutters aside, ‘’look at him and look at me.’’

‘’But I thought we were happy!’’ Harry-as-Jimmy bursts out, then turns to deliver his aside to the audience. ‘’I did! I really thought we were happy!’’

Draco is slumped against Kam, shaking with giggles. Harry’s eyes narrow, but he stays on task.

He turns to Lindsay-as-Sandra. ‘’Did you ever love me at all?’’ then back to the audience, ‘’I worry that she never loved me.’’

‘’OK,’’ Taylor interrupts, ‘’let’s just…’’ he claps his hands together, brings them to his face, and regards their group. ‘’Harry, consider the difference between what you say and what you think.’’

Harry wrinkles his nose. ‘’Why would I say something I don’t think?’’ 

Draco absolutely howls with laughter. Startled, everyone turns to look at him. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ he gasps, ‘’I’m so sorry, it just…oh Mer– oh goodness it makes so much SENSE.’’

At the end of class, Brent enthusiastically insists they all go out for a drink. ‘’I’m game,’’ Draco pipes up brightly, appearing next to Harry. 

Harry doesn’t quite meet Draco’s eyes as he tells Brent, ‘’Sounds great, but I, er, I’m actually meeting my friend Ginny already? So I, you know. Can’t.’’

Brent, already halfway across the room corralling more classmates, grins back at him and shouts, ‘’She can come, too! The more the merrier!’’

Faintly panicked, Harry halfheartedly says, ‘’Noooo,’’ casting about for an excuse. ‘’She’s, erm, she’s already there, so…’’

Brent bounds over to Harry. ‘’Come on, everyone’s coming! Well,’’ he considers, ‘’not Richard, but everyone else! We can just go wherever you were going to meet. Oh!’’ his face goes sly, ‘’unless we’d be…interrupting something?’’

Suddenly very conscious of Draco at his elbow, Harry stammers out, ‘’No, it’s not– she’s my friend, we’re not–’’

‘’Great!’’ Brent barks. ‘’Then we’ll all go!’’ and he bounces off to herd another group of stragglers to the pub.

‘’Fuck’’ Harry breathes, then scrambles for his phone. He’s got to text Hermione to find some magical way of letting Ginny know while she’s waiting in a muggle pub that a pack of muggle actors is about to descend upon her.

Hopefully Hermione will figure something out.

In the end, ten of them swarm through the streets, jostling and laughing, toward the pub. Brent is oddly boisterous when they arrive, talking to everyone at once and no one directly. Ginny spots them when they crowd in and comes over to meet Harry, already holding a drink.

‘’Hi, Harry,’’ she does a double take. ‘’Oh, wow, hi Draco! I have to be honest; I entirely forgot you would be here. This is super weird for me. I hope it’s equally weird for you.’’

Draco shrugs awkwardly. ‘’I had the walk over here to get used to it, but I also have the darker history, so.’’

Ginny nods soberly, ‘’Sure, so it about evens out.’’

Brent, still with a frenzied air, turns to ask if Harry and Draco want drinks, then spots Ginny. ‘’Oh hey! Are you the friend?’’ He immediately answers himself. ‘’You must be the friend! Well, you’ve already got a drink, but now’s your chance to get another one! What’ll you– oh!’’ 

He looks up abruptly, as the opening strains of ‘’Bitch Better have my Money’’ come on. ‘’I love this song!’’ He grabs Kam’s hand, then reaches around Sara to grab Mitch and drags them out onto the floor. Most of the rest of the group follows, laughing and singing along.

‘’So I guess we’re not getting our drinks,’’ Draco says after a brief, stunned silence.

‘’Who’s the smokeshow and why is he being so shady?’’ Ginny asks.

‘’Oh,’’ Sara says glumly, having just edged closer. ‘’That’s Brent. He, ah, thought we should maybe grab dinner after this, and I said I’d be happy to…as friends.’’

Ginny winces sympathetically. ‘’Well, if that doesn’t earn you a drink,’’ she turns to the bar.

‘’So Brent asked you out?’’ Draco repeats once the four of them have gotten drinks (double fisting, in Ginny’s case) and found a table.

‘’And you turned him down?’’ Harry tries to keep the disbelief out of his voice. He’s not into Brent, exactly, but if someone that attractive asked him out, he’d probably say yes out of sheer shock.

Sara’s shrug is unconvincingly nonchalant. ‘’Turns out, I’m into someone else, so…’’

Harry looks around the table. Draco and Ginny are nodding consolingly, and Sara doesn’t seem to be offering any further information. He considers asking who, but maybe she doesn’t want them to know? Or maybe she assumes they know, and it’s weird that he doesn’t?

In the midst of Harry’s quiet panic, Draco glances over at him, rolls his eyes, and mouths, ‘’Kam.’’

‘’Oh, Kam?’’ Harry repeats in relief. Sara’s eyes fly to his, and Draco looks exasperated. ‘’Oh, I mean, erm….so are you two together?’’

Prior to that question, Harry would have said Draco could not possibly have looked more exasperated, and yet here they are.

‘’No, she, er,’’ Sara fiddles with the straw of her drink. ‘’She has a girlfriend.’’ She smiles weakly at them. ‘’They just moved in together!’’ she adds as brightly as she can.

Draco nods again in sympathy. How does everyone know all this? Are they having secret meetings before class every day? Harry is late a lot; that could be possible. Even Ginny looks unsurprised, though, and she can’t possibly be involved in clandestine debriefs. Can she? No, right?

He really has nothing to add about Kam, but he’s certain of one thing. ‘’Brent is…I mean, he’s really hot,’’ Harry points out.

‘’I mean, sure, Brent’s hot, but do you know how many ‘hot guys’ I’ve dated?’’ Sara asks despondently.

After a pause, Harry dryly says, ‘’wow, that’s rough, Sara.’’

Sara looks surprised, then huffs out a laugh. ‘’Ugh, you know what I mean. He’s gorgeous, and he’s nice enough, and that’s kind of…it, isn’t it?’’

They all reflect on this for a moment, then Sara perks up and turns to Draco. ‘’What about you and Richard?’’ Ginny straightens, comes alert like a hound scenting a deer.

Draco freezes for a moment, then recovers. ‘’What about me and Richard?’’ he asks casually.

Sara gives Draco a no-nonsense look. Harry keeps his eyes on his drink and tries not to think about why he has gone suddenly hot and cold all over. Maybe if he doesn’t move or make a sound, they’ll all forget he’s here, and he won’t be asked to participate in this conversation.

‘’There really is no ‘me and Richard’,’’ Draco insists. At this, Harry allows himself a quick glance up. Draco’s eyes are fixed on the wall above Sara’s head, and Ginny is scanning the room to identify which of their classmates is Richard, which means that not one person in their group is making eye contact during this conversation, in spite of – Harry dares a check – Sara’s intent focus on Draco.

‘’It sure seems like Richard wants there to be a ‘you and Richard’,’’ Sara teases lightly.

‘’Well that doesn’t mean there is one, does it?’’ Draco points out crossly.

Ginny leans in, tossing her hair over her shoulder. ‘’Is that because you have a Kam in your life?’’

Draco goes suddenly fidgety and snaps, ‘’Yes. I am also into Kam. We are in love. I’m planning to steal her away from her live-in girlfriend.’’

Harry is shocked that Draco would be so insensitive after Sara was clearly upset about Kam, but to his surprise, Sara laughs as Ginny leans back and says, ‘’Yeah, that’s what I thought.’’

The rest of the evening passes pleasantly enough. Brent leaves after one drink, saying that he’s going to meet up with some other friends. Harry is fairly certain the row of sympathetic faces that greeted that announcement gave away the fact that Sara had told them, but there was nothing else for it. 

Kam leaves shortly after, and their little group overcompensates in the opposite direction, being far too effusive in an effort to act like none of them know Sara has a thing for her, while Sara looks pained and awkward in the background. 

Once Kam has left, Sara turns on them and says, ‘’Has any one of you, ever, in your entire life, been chill?’’ Ginny laughs in Sara’s face, then offers to buy her another drink. The two of them head over to the bar, leaving Harry and Draco at the table.

‘’You might as well buy us drinks, too, while you’re up there!’’ Harry hollers after them.

‘’They definitely aren’t going to, though,’’ he points out to Draco, at a more reasonable volume.

Draco grins mischievously, slightly flushed from the drinks he’s already had, and sneaks two cans out of his bag.

Harry tilts the purple one. ‘’Blackberry gin bramble,’’ he reads aloud. ‘’And,’’ he peers at the orange one, ‘’Porn Star Martini? Draco what the fuck.’’

‘’It’s part of my commitment to trying as many muggle alcohols as possible,’’ he grins. ‘’I have been assured that Marky Sparks cocktails in a can are an experience not to be missed.’’

‘‘Marky…wait, Marks and Spencers?’’

Draco frowns as he cracks open the purple can and begins surreptitiously pouring some into his glass. ‘’I’m certain Richard said Marky Sparks.’’

‘’Well, that’s– wait, Richard told you about these?’’

Draco hums, then loudly asks, ‘’Do you want half of this one? I’m not sure I'm emotionally prepared for the Porn Star Martini, but I don’t dare to presume your status.’’

Harry crosses his arms. ‘’I thought there was no ‘you and Richard’,’’ he says sullenly.

Draco pours some blackberry gin bramble into Harry’s glass and asks, ‘’Well, you’re out with Ginny Weasley and there’s no ‘you and Ginny,’ right?’’ He’s intently focused on shaking the last few drops from the can as he awaits Harry’s answer. There’s still a bit of beer foam in the glass, but it will probably taste fine.

Harry considers protesting that isn’t the same thing at all. He and Ginny are friends, have been for ages. Ginny isn’t some….some guy, some rando he’d met less than a month ago who has been flirting with him ever since.

In the end, he says none of that. Instead, he clears his throat and says, ‘’No, there’s no ‘me and Ginny.’’’ He pauses, then finds himself adding, ‘’There’s no, ah…there’s no ‘me and anyone’, really.’’

Draco puts the can down and slides Harry’s drink over to him, nodding thoughtfully. He glances over at the bar, where Ginny and Sara are laughing with the bartender, then squares his narrow shoulders and says, oddly formal, ‘’Harry, would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow?’’

Harry could tease him for his formality. He could point out that they are currently at a pub, where they could easily get dinner. He could accept with an easy laugh as though it’s no big deal.

He matches Draco’s consequential tone. ‘’I’d be delighted.’’ He raises his glass in a toast, tips it back. The blackberry gin bramble bursts sweet and heady on his tongue.

Harry wakes up on Friday morning in precisely the same state of buzzing panic he’d fallen asleep in. ‘’It’ll all look better in the morning,’’ he grumbles irritably. ‘’Bullshit.’’

Why had he just…toasted Draco’s suggestion of dinner? Why hadn’t he, for example, said, ‘’where would you like to go?’’ or ‘’is this a friendly dinner?’’ or ‘’what are your intentions toward me?’’

Now he has to wait around all day to find out what is happening and where they are going, and oh god, will he have to wear robes? Like, dress robes? Draco is definitely a dress robes kind of guy.

The only thing worse than wearing dress robes would be wearing dress robes only to discover he’s the only tosser who did.

Harry keeps opening his texting app to check if Draco has maybe sent him a message without him noticing, in spite of the fact that he’s been carrying his phone around with him like a comfort object. Alas, no, he is greeted every time by his own last message: 

Harry

And thank god he’d made sure to share that.

When his phone actually does buzz, Harry is on such high alert that he fumbles it trying to grab it off the counter and hurls it onto the floor, where it buzzes again. Cursing, he scoops it up and opens it to find 

Draco

How do you feel about tapas?

Actually, do you know what tapas is?

Harry, what is your relationship to tapas??

Harry smiles to himself and responds

Harry

Monogamous, marriage potential

Immediately after hitting send, he panics, because while that was obviously a hilarious joke, what if Draco thinks that Harry is hinting at something? Fuck, what if Draco thinks that Harry thought it was acceptable to state his relationship terms via a weak tapas joke? What if this IS a friendly dinner, and Harry has sort of proposed?

His phone buzzes once more.

Draco

Fantastic because I had no other ideas, so it’s v possible we will only ever be having tapas for all time.

It’s a medium-nice place

Basically dress one level above how you dress for acting class

A choice you make that I have never understood btw

So that’s sorted, then. One level above how he dresses for acting class. Harry, a human adult who has been dressing himself for at least two decades, definitely knows the…levels…for clothing.

Wow, he had really hoped not to get anyone else involved in this. 

He briefly considers flooing Ginny and Nev, but he does not want to do this over the floo. People are far too casual about their floo usage, in Harry’s opinion. And when HE is casual about it, there is a terrifying Slytherin on the other end who confronts him and makes him admit horrible things in front of Neville. The point is, it is not appropriate to simply step through into someone’s home when they are trying to ask a quick question. If he wanted someone to come over, he would first do a panic tidy, then invite them over.

Also, Ginny and Neville would make just so much relentless fun of him, whereas Hermione will simply get an annoying knowing smirk and save all her mockery for later. He makes a face and calls Hermione. She answers on the third ring, and he blurts out, ‘’What is one level above jeans and a jumper?’’

There is a long pause.

‘’I assume this isn’t a riddle?’’

‘’What? How would that be a riddle?’’ Harry is in no mood for the slow amusement in Hermione’s voice; this is urgent. ‘’Like if I’m wearing my jeans and a jumper, what would be one level above that?’’

‘’Which jumper?’’

Harry glances down at himself. ‘’Any jumper. Does that matter?’’

Hermione makes an impatient sound. ‘’Yes, it matters, Harry. Is it a Weasley jumper? Or is it, like, woven from unicorn hair?’’

Harry pauses. ‘’Do they make jumpers from unicorn hair?’’

‘’I don’t know, but if they do, I assume Draco Malfoy owns one.’’ Her voice is tinged with amusement once more.

In Hermione’s absence, Harry glares at his kettle. ‘’What a strange and random observation to make,’’ he replies pointedly.

She laughs brightly, then says, ‘’As far as I know, you have one pair of jeans, right? So wear those and the green jumper Ron got you for your birthday over a collared shirt.’’

‘’So a level above jeans and a jumper is just…putting a collared shirt under it?’’

‘’Within the constraints of your wardrobe, yes,’’ Hermione agrees.

‘’Why would a person not just say that?’’

‘’Mm, why would ‘a person’ not just say that?’’ If Hermione cannot keep the arch amusement out of her voice, she really has no business speaking to people. ‘’Possibly ‘a person’ feels that it’s presumptuous and rather intimate to dress ‘another person’ quite so early on.’’

‘’I really thought you’d make less fun of me than Ginny,’’ Harry says.

Hermione laughs again. ‘’I think you’ll find I did.’’

Once they hang up, he checks his phone again.

Draco

7!

7 is when we will go!

Just realised I forgot to tell you when

So

7

So at least Draco isn’t handling this well either.

At 6.45, Harry is dressed precisely according to Hermione’s instructions. He gets that she was teasing with that whole bit about it being ‘presumptuous and intimate’, but he actually gets a bit weak at the knees at the idea of Draco bossily dressing Harry to his impeccable standards. Somehow, wearing Hermione’s recommendations doesn’t make him swoon the same way.

Draco hadn’t told him which tapas restaurant, so Harry assumes Draco will be picking him up. Does Draco know where he lives? Or, wait, even if he does, the fidelius…?

Harry’s phone dings. And dings. And dings. He thumbs it open and watches as texts roll in.

Draco

I don’t know where you live.

I assume the old Black place, but 

a) I don’t know for sure; what if I show up there and actually you sold it to a young family?

And then they assume I’m there to attack them, out of some ancient pureblood house-based revenge

And I get arrested

And then you think I stood you up

And neither of us ever get to have tapas

b) you must have some kind of wards.

 

Harry

Shall we just meet there?

Harry apparates to the alley Draco suggests to find Draco there already. Somehow, Harry had expected him to be waiting inside, even though Draco had literally just told Harry he’d head over there now.

They stare at each other for a long moment, Harry holding his breath. 

‘’Well, shall we…’’ Draco gestures grandly with one arm, then offers the elbow of the other, as though to escort Harry out of the filthy alley. 

Harry releases all the air in his lungs and steps forward. Draco’s eyes are a bit too wide, but his arm is firm. Harry grips his elbow gingerly, uncertain as to whether he’s meant to thread his own arm through or use it as a sort of handle.

Draco’s gaze flicks down to Harry’s bruising grip on his elbow, and he smiles mockingly. ‘’I’m not a teapot, Harry; you can’t tip me over and pour me out.’’

Still, he begins walking forward, guiding Harry to…wherever it is they’re going.

Harry shakes him teasingly by the elbow. ‘’I’m not a ponce, Draco; you can’t offer me your elbow and assume I’ll know what to do with it.’’

Draco laughs, and Harry does, too, and then it’s…easy. It’s so easy.

The waiter gives them the wine list, and Draco takes great and thorough pleasure in simultaneously insulting Harry’s taste and showing off his own. Harry smiles amiably and leaves spaces for Draco to preen and condescend, warmed by his theatrics.

Once Draco has ordered a bottle, Harry points out, ‘’I notice that even a connoisseur like yourself ended up choosing the second cheapest bottle,’’ and Draco’s face splits into an unwieldy, beaming grin at being caught out.

They bicker mildly over which dishes to share and trade gossip about their fellow actors – well, Draco offers gossip, and then Harry says things like, ‘’Oh, that explains why…’’ and Draco squirrels those details away as well.

They both reach for the bill when the waiter brings it over. Draco snatches it first, then smacks Harry’s hand with it. ‘’How unforgivably rude,’’ Draco muses, ‘’to act as though I wouldn’t pay after suggesting dinner.’’

Harry rolls his eyes.

‘’Besides,’’ Draco adds with a flash of teeth, ‘’if I thought you were paying, I’d have gone for the most expensive bottle of wine.’’

They stroll out of the restaurant together and face their first awkward moment since the alley. After a pause, they both speak at the same time:

‘’Well, I suppose–’’

‘’Would you–’’

They each pause again, expectant. Harry has horrified visions of them stuck in this cycle for hours, each waiting for the other to speak, then speaking simultaneously, and on and on; desperate to evade that fate, he blurts out, ‘’My wards!’’

Draco is taken aback, but Harry bulls forward. ‘’I could…I should add you to the fidelius. So that, erm, if we…well, if we were to….er…’’

Draco’s expression has shifted from shock to amusement. He is obviously prepared to stand there and watch Harry struggling for at least as long as the terrible cycle of polite interruptions would have carried on.

‘’...oh, fuck off,’’ Harry finally laughs. ‘’Harry Potter lives at Number 12, Grimmauld Place,’’ he announces.

Draco nods, eyes twinkling, ‘’So there is no young family fearing for genealogical retribution?’’

Harry makes a face. ‘’Just one aspiring actor who struggles to keep the dust out.’’

A complicated expression flits across Draco’s face, gone before Harry can work it out, and then his face is smoothed and neutral and…perhaps a bit nervous. He steps slightly closer to Harry, his hand making an abortive motion at his side.

‘’It is a terribly large house for just one person to keep tidy,’’ he agrees blandly, and oh god, are they going to make small talk now? Harry did not sign up for small talk.

But Draco’s hand has twitched forward once more, this time latching onto Harry’s, his first two fingers wrapped around Harry’s thumb. His eyes search Harry’s face as he carries on, his voice betraying no sign of the turmoil he must feel because they are basically holding hands. Even as Harry thinks this, his own hand twists a bit in Draco’s grip, their palms sliding together until their fingers are loosely intertwined.

Draco is murmuring something about…good lord, about wainscoting? And his eyes flick carefully down to Harry’s mouth, and he hasn’t moved any closer, but he was already plenty close.

Harry appreciates what Draco is doing. He obviously has this whole thing under control. Harry almost never knows the proper steps to get to what he wants, particularly in social situations. Most particularly in romantic situations, which Harry is increasingly certain this is. Draco knows what to do, and even if there is far too much discussion of architecture going on for Harry’s liking, he wants to respect Draco’s process.

At the same time, it’s too terrible to wait and see any longer.

Draco’s lips are warm and dry and soft against his, and his fingers clench in Harry’s grip as he gasps, surprised – although, good lord, how; they’ve been outside the restaurant dancing around it for an eternity.

Harry’s head is spinning too rapidly with the pounding realisation that they are doing this; he has done this; it’s happening – to try anything fancier than pressing their mouths together. After a moment, he pulls back slightly, stares worriedly into Draco’s face, and says, ‘’Sorry, was that– erm, what about the reception hallway?’’

Draco’s laugh is a little desperate, and he manoeuvres them back together, the hand that isn’t held in Harry’s sliding around his waist to tug him closer, and oh, thank god, Draco does know what he’s doing; this is a kiss. Safe in the knowledge that Draco can handle it, Harry melts into it.

Far too soon for Harry’s tastes – although, he has to admit, perhaps a bit longer than is really appropriate – Draco breaks away. He rests his temple lightly atop Harry’s head, breathing shakily, for a brief moment, then – Harry’s heart swells – presses a kiss to his hair before stepping back.

‘’Well,’’ Draco smooths Harry’s jumper down from where it had gotten rucked up on one side. ‘’Well, that was…’’

‘’Nice,’’ Harry smiles dopily. ‘’That was nice.’’

Draco’s smile is tight but soft. ‘’Quite. But I suppose we shouldn’t, ah, carry on here in the street.’’

Harry is on the verge of asking Draco back to Grimmauld and then considers…all of it. How fresh this feels, how precarious. The dragging weight of Grimmauld’s dusty halls and ponderous gloom. Before he’s finished poking at the incongruity of Draco on his terrible settee, Draco has taken another step back.

‘’I suppose this is good night,’’ Draco has gone oddly formal again, but now, Harry can see the soft bemusement in his face.

''Good night,'' Harry echoes softly.

They are still making eye contact when they apparate out of the alley: first Draco, presumably to his, and then Harry back to Number Twelve.

Harry wakes up the next morning, stumbles downstairs, and immediately crashes into the settee, which this time he is absolutely certain he did not leave partially obscuring the entryway. He kicks it, which serves only to ensure that now both of his legs hurt, and texts Hermione

Harry

where do people buy furniture

Hermione

Just so many places, Harry.

Two hours later, Harry is dressed, fed, and off to the nearest dot that had popped up when he typed ‘sofa store’ into google maps. Well, the third nearest – Hermione had delicately suggested that, given the amount of galleons in his bank account, he could stand to avoid used textiles.

About an hour after that, Harry is the proud owner of an enormous corner sofa that the salesperson had eagerly assured him could easily fit six people for a movie night. Now, he just needs to get a TV and…whatever other items one might need, and then he can have his friends over for a movie night.

He pauses in the entryway of Sue’s Furniture Emporium to search for a nearby electronics store, but his attention is caught by a giant, framed photo of, he assumes, the eponymous Sue beaming and waving at the camera between several other smiling faces. It’s a muggle shop, so they’re not actually waving, just frozen mid-wave, but it does give Harry an idea. 

He can order the television online, anyway.

He finds a quiet spot and apparates to Diagon Alley, then freezes. Where do magical people buy decorations? Basically everything the Weasley’s own is hand-me-downs, heirlooms, or children’s crafts – they have an incredible row of enchanted ice lolly stick frames marching up their stairwell telling bad jokes – and Ron and Hermione haven’t gotten around to hanging pictures yet.

He turns slowly in place, then picks a direction and starts walking, looking out for anywhere that might sell picture frames. If, along the way, he ends up with several couch cushions and a lamp that makes bawdy jokes about being 'turned on', that is his own business.

Once he gets back, Harry drops his accumulated bags in the hall and marches into the sitting room. He takes great pleasure in shrinking the offending settee and sending it shooting up the stairs. He’ll figure out what to do with it later; for now, he has inertia working for him, and he rolls up his sleeves and begins shooting cleaning spells hither and yon.

Free of dust and grime, the room brightens a little. Harry stares at the curtains for a while, and they twitch back, letting in more light. He startles, then says aloud, ‘’Maybe…maybe something less bulky?’’ The curtains twitch back a bit further, then droop in acquiescence. Slightly self-conscious, Harry mutters, ‘’Sorry,’’ then, hopefully, ‘’they can still be green if you like!’’

Harry takes a moment to imagine where the new sofa will go, and then–

‘’Shit!’’ he says aloud. ‘’The delivery.’’

Panicked, he calls Sue’s Furniture Emporium to arrange pickup rather than delivery, assuring them that, yes, he does understand that delivery is free, and yes, he will have a vehicle that can fit the couch, no, he won’t try to strap it to the top of a two-door mini.

Harry

i own this now

 

Draco

Did you not previously have a couch?

What did you sit on?

 

Harry

my old one was evil

 

Draco

……of course it was.

You need a rug. Please don’t try to buy one yourself. 

We can go after class tomorrow if you’re really desperate.

Harry

probably going to head to class early today

meet at the cafe?

Harry and Draco walk into class together, and they’re not – it’s not like they’re holding hands or anything; they haven’t made any kind of announcement, but a sort of delighted gasp ripples around the room regardless.

Well, mostly delighted. Harry carefully doesn’t look at Richard. Sara is gleeful enough for everyone else anyway.

Draco gives Harry a rueful smile, then wanders away to sit next to Kam, callously abandoning Harry to be hounded for details while Kam and Draco converse in raised eyebrows and head tilts.

Fortunately, Taylor interrupts the interrogation. ‘’OK, precious baby hedgehogs, as you know, the final class of this course is the open performance, which makes today,’’ he pauses dramatically, one hand on his heart, ‘’our last class together.’’

Harry looks around frantically. Did they all know this? He certainly had not. No one else looks surprised, though, so probably they actually researched the class instead of begrudgingly showing up because their friend made them.

Taylor hands out scripts, using his trusty app to assign their roles (‘’for the last time’’ he wails dramatically), and they spend the session rehearsing.

‘’Remember,’’ Taylor calls after them as they leave, ‘’it’ll be first come, first served on the day, and we only have thirty chairs!’’

Shopping with Draco turns out to be an altogether different experience than Harry’s weekend whirlwind of success. Draco scoffs at the map screenshot Harry shows him, claiming to already know where all the best stores are.

Sure enough, Draco apparates them to a shop absolutely lush with fabrics and textiles, rugs and curtains and carpets all begging to be touched and admired. Harry strokes them wonderingly while Draco chatters with the shop owner, describing the space in incredible detail, considering he’s never been there – ‘’I am familiar with the aesthetic, Harry, or have you forgotten my mother is a Black?’’ – and asking questions about fibre count and dyes.

And then…they leave. Harry can’t believe it. ‘’But…I already found a rug I like!’’

Draco looks pained, ‘’Yes, but what if it’s not the best rug available? Or what if you like it by itself, but it turns out to be too big for the space, or too small, or not to go well with your couch?’’

‘’OK,’’ Harry replies slowly, ‘’but what if it’s…fine?’’

Draco pinches his nose between his fingers. ‘’Oh sweet son of Cathbad,’’ he breathes, then he turns on Harry, snapping his hand so his robes billow menacingly. ‘’Fine?’’ he hisses.

‘’You know I can see you spelling your robes to float like that,’’ Harry points out mildly.

Draco ignores him. ‘’Harry, your home should not merely be fine. You LIVE there. You have guests there. Surely we can spend the time to go to more than one shop to find the right rug.’’

Harry shrugs, squinting at him, ‘’I mean, I guess. Wait, was the robe billowing spell part of your wandless magic curriculum thingummy, or did you do that one separately, just for–’’

‘’Harry!’’ Draco interrupts, but the slight pink of his cheeks gives away the answer. ‘’Please tell me you did not buy the first couch you saw.’’

‘’Errr…’’ says Harry. ‘’I mean, there were, like. Other couches. You know. In the store?’’

‘’I despair of you,’’ Draco grabs him, whirls him into apparition. Harry takes a moment to get his bearings before walking into the next shop; before he can, Draco crowds him up against the wall, muttering, ‘’fine, good Merlin, you utter incompetent,’’ and kisses him.

So, you know. There are perks.

None of the perks are a rug, though.

Taylor insists that they all show up to their final class – your debut, butterflies – half an hour early. After warmups, which mostly involve setting out an optimistic number of chairs, they cram into the room behind the studio, which Taylor keeps calling ‘backstage’ but looks an awful lot like a tiny office, so Taylor can hang a sheet to ‘‘preserve the theatrical aura.’’

Their fellow actors keep poking their heads out to wave to friends and family members; finally, Mitch returns from a foray and asks Richard, ‘’Are they all with you?’’

When Richard shakes his head, Mitch says, ‘’That is a truly astonishing quantity of gingers.’’

Harry’s eyes snap to Draco’s.

Together, they scramble to their feet, rush out of the ‘backstage’ door and peer through a crack in the curtain.

Sure enough, Molly Weasley is sat dead centre in the audience, surrounded by her brood. She’s knitting while she waits, chatting to – oh, Christ, is that Andromeda? And, yes, there’s Teddy, running up and down the side of the room with George. On her other side, Ron nudges Hermione and Ginny and points, then they all grin hugely and wave at Harry’s eye, glaring at them through the curtain.

Draco has to sit down, he’s laughing so hard.

Eventually, Taylor ushers them ‘backstage’ – ‘’How did they even know?’’ Harry seethes – and steps out in front of their makeshift curtain to smile adoringly at the assembled crowd. ‘’Look at all you beautiful fans of theatre, here to see our beloved thespians’ debut.’’ 

‘’We’ll open with their monologues, so you’ll each get to see your own baby bird leave the nest for the first time, whomever they may be, then they’ll all put on a short one-act play, so you can admire how they act and react to others.’’

Taylor steps to the side and waves a hand wide. ‘’Without further ado, Draco Malfoy, delivering an excerpt from Floyd Dell’s ‘Enigma’.’’

The thing about the Weasleys is, they tend to show up en masse and at top volume, all red hair and teasing and movement. That’s the only possible explanation for how Draco gets so distracted laughing himself sick at Harry’s predicament that he doesn’t notice the Slytherins dotted about the room until it’s too late.

Draco marches out to do his monologue, lifts his eyes to the back of the room in a practised movement, and goes white. 

Harry doesn’t have to follow his gaze to know he’s just registered Pansy posed at the back of the room. Draco’s eyes flick to the door, as he very obviously weighs the possibility of making an escape.

Pansy’s mouth curves slightly.

‘’No,’’ Draco snaps out, ‘’it happened to me. It didn’t happen to you…’’ and he begins.

Pansy doesn’t make it very far. By the time Draco says the phrase ‘’a god on holiday,’’ she is absolutely shaking with repressed laughter, and halfway through, when Draco insists, ‘’I had to give myself to you,’’ she simply turns and walks out the door.

She later demands a Pensieve memory from Harry, who refuses, and from Blaise, who agrees in exchange for her help in some complicated scheme involving Ginny, some pixies, and a greenhouse.

Harry doesn’t actually remember giving his monologue. He’s certain he does it, as there will be impressions of it from all corners for years to come, but from his perspective, he steps on stage, and then his consciousness departs entirely for about five minutes, returning to the sound of Ginny’s wolf whistles as he stumbles off stage.

After the monologues, Taylor sweeps smoothly back onstage to announce the one-act play. ‘’Tracy Wells’ ‘One Stoplight Town’,’’ he says, ‘’is a story about people from a town so small that you might drive through without taking a second look.’’ He smiles winningly at the audience.

‘’But if you stopped for just a moment, you might see two young people fall in love,’’ Kam and Lindsay walk awkwardly onstage, ‘’a cantankerous grocery store owner coping with change,’’ that’s Brent’s cue, ‘’one child returning home while another thinks about leaving,’’ Harry and Sara walk out together, ‘’a beauty queen and a drum major striking up a friendship,’’ Richard and Draco enter, ''and a handyperson taking it all in while she fixes what is broken,’’ finally, Sara joins them.

Before they can start, Teddy whispers, ‘’Harry’’ and waves enthusiastically. Harry despairs of Taylor’s good opinion and his own professionalism, but he isn’t going to ignore Teddy, so he smiles and waves back, to a round of coos and awwwws.

They stumble through the play with minimal incident – Harry’s role of ‘aspiring runaway’ isn’t one that particularly resonates with him, but he doesn’t forget his lines – and then, finally, it’s over.

It’s over!

Harry is an actor, or as much of one as he’s ever going to be. They take their bows, laughing, holding hands, and disperse into the audience for hugs and congratulations.

Unbelievably, Andromeda has gotten him flowers. Far more believably, Ginny has also gotten him flowers, a massive bouquet overflowing with trailing vines and enormous petals and several balloons, all of which scream out embarrassing accolades. She grins cheerfully at his sardonic look and turns to hand Draco his balloon-and-flower bouquet, interrupting Blaise’s, ‘’Oh, come now, Draco, it wasn’t that bad.’’

‘’It really was,’’ Ginny stage whispers to Neville as she passes Draco the balloons, which sets Pansy off again.

Next to them, Kam basking under the attentions of a lovely young woman who must be the live-in girlfriend – Harry looks around for Sara, who seems surprisingly unfussed – well, surprising until her eyes light on Ginny, who is marching over to her with a perfectly normal, tasteful bouquet of flowers, that arsehole.

‘’You came!’’ Sara exclaims, receiving the flowers with the sort of delicate blush Harry knows he could never pull off.

Harry doesn’t hear Ginny’s response, because Draco hisses, ‘’It was Sara’’ and immediately begins plotting his revenge. The next ten minutes are a jumble of people asking to be included in any vengeance against Ginny (Blaise, George) and people cautioning against picking a fight with her (Harry, Neville, even Pansy, which is a bit of a surprise).

Harry’s friends insist on taking him out for congratulatory drinks, and since Draco’s friends do as well, it makes sense that they’d all go together – all except Ginny, who has mysteriously vanished with Sara. 

They toast one another’s health, happiness, and future creative endeavours, until Harry, red and earnest as drinks always make him, tearily tells everyone they’re welcome to a seat on his new sofa as soon as Draco lets him buy a rug.

Epilogue

Motion swirls around Harry’s periphery as he watches Neville smile fondly at a wildly gesticulating Pansy Parkinson. Past them, Hermione glides forward on Blaise Zabini’s arm, mid-conversation about the successful voting in of her Bettering Engagement Legislation to Eliminate Normalised Distrust. Blaise’s face is impressively calm considering how he’d kept squawking, It’s spells BELEND, Hermione, alongside Ron two days before. They approach Ron, who is chuckling with Luna Lovegood, Susan Bones, and Astoria Greengrass, all of whom turn to greet the new arrivals warmly. As the group bursts into a new round of laughter, Harry’s eyes find Draco’s across the room.

He smiles.

Draco scowls at him, clearly remembering that he’d gotten told off in the last take for ‘smiling like a besotted fool’, and snaps his cloak into a billow, strutting to meet Harry several metres in front of the smiling inter-House group.

‘’Draco,’’ Harry says, fighting back his smile. ‘’It’s good to see you. You look well.’’ He winces to himself. Well, it’s better than it was three months ago, even if it’s not exactly what Taylor would call natural.

‘’Harry,’’ Draco nods firmly, clearly struggling not to laugh at how wooden Harry still is. Harry wrinkles his nose at Draco, who lets out a helpless giggle before he can say his next line. Harry bites his lip and sways closer, reaching instinctively for Draco’s hand—

Hermione charges over, causing them to jump apart. ‘’You’re meant to be SERIOUS and NOBLE, Jesus Christ!’’ she screeches.

She turns to Mia, whose awe of Harry has severely diminished after three months of failed adverts. ‘’OK, Hermione,’’ she says, ‘’it’s clear that we just…can’t work with these two. We’ve tried, like a LOT, and it’s not going to happen.’’

Ginny sidles over to them in a fashion that spells disaster, but Harry is too far away to stop her from murmuring:

‘’Maybe a romantic photoshoot.’’